


Alcohol Can't Solve A Loss Like This

by cuddleswiththecrew



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol doesn't solve heartbreak, Avengers Tower, Canonical Character Death, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Pre Peter Parker/Harley Keener
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24203641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddleswiththecrew/pseuds/cuddleswiththecrew
Summary: Tony's funeral is over and one Harley Keener is not handling it well.Cue the entrance of our friendly neighborhood Spiderman to help out a sad boi.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Kudos: 10





	Alcohol Can't Solve A Loss Like This

**Author's Note:**

> So, this fic was a pain in my ass. The ending wasn't working (I wanted this to be longer and have Peter and Harley maybe get to know one another and maybe get together), and so here's what I have to offer. Hopefully it's decent.
> 
> And with that, I should really be working on the next chapter of my other fic!

The glass was half full - or, considering the circumstances behind him even being here, one would probably say half empty - of some sort of alcohol. Harley hadn’t been particularly caring when he’d poured the glass, or when he’d refilled it. Whatever it was had burned, but he could care less. He just craved not feeling the pain.

Fuck, he really shouldn’t be in the Tower, but it was the only place he could go to get alcohol, and well, no one else was really here, were they? Everyone had separated after the funeral, and while he’d hugged Pepper as he left, the woman had been dealing with her own problems and probably hadn’t been able to detect just how poorly Harley was doing.

He should’ve been there. Damn it, he  _ should have been there _ .

Harley wasn’t even dusted when Tony had died. Sure, he’d been dusted until a little before that final showdown, but he’d been back. He could’ve put together a suit, used one of Tony’s old ones, he could’ve done  _ something.  _ Anything to take away some of this guilt and anger.

Self-sacrificing son-of-a-dick.

Harley would be ashamed of the tears all over his cheeks, and probably would feel bad if Tony - who’d been working so hard to be sober, according to the chip he’d found in Tony’s house - had seen him surrounded by bottles and slumped over the Tower’s bar. But there was no one here, and all the fight had gone out of the teen.

His only true father figure, gone. Harley had long since stopped counting his birth father as an actual part of his life. 

The fact that all this was going through his brain meant that the two glasses he’d had hadn’t been enough. That, or it just hadn’t hit his system yet. 

The best solution, he concluded, was drinking more of this shit.

The glass, which had been in the middle of being twisted by his own hands, was quickly raised to his mouth and downed.  _ God, how did people like this shit? _

And then he went through the motions again. The cup was refilled, the glass twisted for a minute, Harley calculated his brain was still functioning too well, and then the shit downed. 

He, wasn’t actually sure what glass he was on by the time someone else came up behind him.

“Uh, hello? FRIDAY told me someone needed help at the Tower and - wait a second, are you supposed to be drinking?!”

The voice was a little higher, but someone familiar. Which, why the fuck would it be familiar? He lived in a shitty town with Abby and his mom, where the uncultured reigned free. But yeah, at least if they were in the middle of nowhere Tennessee, they weren’t being entitled idiots in the Big Apple. The place where Harley was one day hoping to ask Tony for help moving too.

Harley flinched at the thought.

And down went another drink.

Or well, he’d attempted to do so. 

“Woah, no you don’t.” Someone’s hand quickly covered his own, and wormed the glass away from Harley. If he’d been more sober and in less emotional pain, he probably would’ve acknowledged that whoever had done so was probably doing a good thing. 

As he was not in a good mental state, Harley let out a whine. “Give i’ ba’.” The words didn’t seem to want to come out properly, but that wasn’t his problem; Christ, he didn’t want anyone around. He just wanted to drink himself out of this nightmare. 

The person stepped forward, and Harley let out a frown. That was one of the kids at the funeral - he’d sort of assumed the kid had been a biological son Tony had found or something. Wasn’t really sure how else Tony had managed to pick the kid up.

Unless the kid was the Spiderling.

Probably was. That’d make the whole voice thing make sense. And now Harley was thinking of all the time the two had probably worked on the suit, and how Peter might’ve had Tony around the last five years. 

That hurt. And logically his brain was telling him that the kid had to have been dusted, or else the kid, who’d had to have been around 15, would have had to have started the spiderman thing way before it would be any kind of okay.

And the guy had been funny and seemed at least high school aged in the clips Tony had sent him. There was no way this kid hadn’t been dusted. 

Still, Spiderling and Tones probably spent a lot of time together when Harley was stuck in a shitty town that hated his guts. 

The emptiness wasn’t complete. 

“Gi’ me t’e damn bo’le.” Harley reached towards the kid, who’d made it to the other side of the island and had managed to push away everything Harley had brought out. Prick.

Harley slid onto the counter, letting out another whine.

“Alright, so, you’ve definitely had a bit too much.” The voice was back. Harley couldn’t really make out what tone…. Huh, actually, scratch that thought - Harley legit couldn’t really make out.

_ Screwwwwww small towns without enough cute boys. _

“Kid, m’ brain’s ‘ill on.” Harley was pretty happy with the coolness of the table though. He felt something wet by his eyes though - maybe he’d accidentally rested near a puddle. 

There was silence, and then some mumbling. Wait, was that mumbling, or was it just…

A hand landed on his arm, and while he was sure he’d missed something that he was probably supposed to respond to, he suddenly felt a little safe with the contact.

Sort of like he felt with Tony or Abby.

And with that, Harley completely broke down.

  
  


Peter was really surprised to hear anyone was at the Tower, or that the Tower was even in use by any of the Avengers anymore. Last he knew, it had been sold. 

A lot could happen in five years though. He and May had found out that their building had been scheduled to be torn down, but after the return of half of Earth’s population the city had decided to keep the complex.

And luckily, he and May had gotten their place back, if empty and covered in dirt.

He’d gone up to whenever FRIDAY had directly, and been happy to note that the room held the same sort of modern style Tony had always enjoyed. 

He tried to push past the lump in his throat. 

There was still a ring of couches, and past that, the kitchen. And, a bar. A bar with one very out of it looking individual sitting at it.

Peter had seen whoever this was at the funeral, and Tony had always mentioned a kid he’d befriended in Tennessee. The kid in front of him definitely had more style than Peter would expect from a Midwest teen, but that could’ve just been because the engineer was looking out for his “kid”.

Peter had been honored when he’d realized that he too had earned the kid title Tony used for the other teen. 

And now his throat was tensing up again. Damn it, he missed his mentor. So many people did; he’d been more than aware of Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy’s pain (they were the closest to Tony). Peter couldn’t help but feel bittersweet when talking to Morgan - she seemed like she was bound to be a mini version of Tony.

The cute ( _ oh, this is really not the time to be noticing that brain _ ) boy was still there though, and without seeing or hearing anyone else, he must’ve been the reason FRIDAY called Peter in. Didn’t know why though, maybe this person was just sad.

Well, he wasn’t going to figure it out from just standing there. And Tony had liked the kid, he’d probably want Peter to make sure the other guy was doing okay after… after everything. He tried to casually walk forward, but couldn’t help awkwardly stuffing his hands in his suit pockets.

“Uh, hello? FRIDAY told me someone needed help at the Tower and -” 

That’s when Peter saw the guy down a couple glasses of whatever bottle was on the counter. And with however much Peter knew about advanced chemistry, his common sense was a bit skewed. Meaning, it took way longer than it should’ve for Peter to realize that the boy in front of him was drinking something alcoholic. 

_ Shit. _

“Wait a second, are you supposed to be drinking?!”

How old was the kid in front of him? Peter was terrible with guessing ages, and the 5 year difference made it hard to determine just how old anyone he knew previously was now - mainly because, there wasn’t a real way to tell who’d been left and who hadn’t unless they’d obviously aged up. 

Peter could barely see one of the kid’s eyebrows shift up. If he hadn’t been able to see the small movement, he would’ve wondered if the guy hadn’t heard him. But the raise told him otherwise. As did the guy’s pretty obvious flinch.

Peter was, well, impatient. He liked things quick, sue him; Gen-Z through and through. But he figured that he should probably wait for a response from the other brunette. 

Which was probably a good idea considering the guy just reached for his glass again.

“Woah, no you don’t!” Peter reached for the other’s hand, and tried to slide his fingers between the guy’s and the cup. He succeeded in pulling it away - with a little too much ease - and only received a short whine and mumble from the dude. Unfortunately, not even his super hearing could clarify meaningless mumbling. Fortunately, Peter could fill in the letters lost in the other guy’s slurring.

Peter chose to ignore the guy’s plea for the alcohol. 

He sighed, and walked around the island. Should probably move all the bottles away so the other guy didn’t poison himself. Looked like whatever his age, the dude had decided to emulate a younger Tony today. 

He really couldn’t blame the guy. This whole thing with Thanos was an absolute nightmare. Sort of made his whole fight with Toomes look stupid in comparison. Fighting with some C level Avengers was preferable to anything that had gone down since. 

Peter pulled at his tie. Damn it, he couldn’t handle not having Tony in his life.

And then the guy spoke again. “Gi’ me t’e damn bo’le.” Another easy interpret, and like hell was Peter doing that. He still didn’t know the other’s age, and he’d been pretty sure that that health class he’d had to take told them to avoid alcohol when dealing with painful emotions. 

No matter how completely defeated the individual wanting the booze looked. 

The cute guy let out another, heartbreaking whine, completely collapsing onto the counter before him with one hand stretched towards Peter. 

Good god, he needed Tony.

“Alright, so, you’ve definitely had a bit too much.” Peter really should’ve been expecting the following whine; it seemed to be one of the guy’s favorite ways to communicate just then. 

The guy’s arms moved to curl in front of his head. “Kid, m’ brain’s ‘ill on.” 

Okay, Peter had no idea how to take that.  _ His brain was still on? _ Um, wasn’t that a general requirement for living?

And oh, damn it, too soon. 

“Alright, can you explain what you mean by that?” Peter tried not to tap the counter too hard; no need to make this guy Tony had cared about think Peter was annoying. Well, more annoying than he’d already shown himself to be. 

“Um, hey, are you there? Are you okay?”

Still no response. Fuck, was the guy asleep? Were you allowed to let someone sleep if you didn’t know how much alcohol they’d had?

He was pretty sure that you were supposed to have them rest on their side and, well, that’s not what this guy was doing.

Without too much thought - because again, Peter had no common sense - he touched the dude’s arm.

And the guy started sobbing like crazy.

_ FUCK! _ Peter moved right next to him, placing a hand on the guy’s back. “Hey, hey, shit, are you okay? Mister, erm, whatever you go by, is there anything I should do? Shit, I’m really sorry.”

The guy just kept crying and crying, and while he might not want Peter to witness his bawling, the counter had to be really uncomfortable. 

He thanked the stupid spider that bit him as he maneuvered other brunette up. The guy raised his hands to his face, and kept crying. 

Damn it, what did he do? Comfort maybe?

“Hey, hey, it’s totally okay for you to keep crying, but I’m going to move us to a couch so that it’s not as uncomfortable, okay?” Peter was sure that he kept mumbling something, because it was just like him to ramble on when he was nervous, but he scooped up the man into a bridal carry.

The guy just snuggled into Peter’s chest and kept sobbing.

He could feel his shirt getting damp, but couldn’t mind. The guy sounded so broken, and Peter was hurting for him. 

The move to the couch was quick, and Peter made sure to sit on one of the ends. He wasn’t sure what would make the other brunette the most comfortable, but in the move down the guy had ended on his lap. 

Peter started to move him, and the guy dug into his shirt. 

Lap it was.

The sobbing kept going, with broken cries and half completed pleas. Peter broke more at the utters of “Tony” and “Stark”. There was anger, sadness…

Peter guessed the guy had yet to let this all out. Which would make sense as to why he had crashed so hard. 

Peter couldn’t do much aside from curler tighter around the man and try to utter some comforting hums. He couldn’t force out an “it’s okay” or anything very soothing, because, well, it just, it wasn’t okay. None of this was - the five year gap, Thanos, Tony dying, all the families and others that had been broken and rebuilt and then torn again - it was terrible.

Eventually, the guy in his arms calmed down, but it wasn’t much better. The mumbled statements became too clear, and Peter felt terrible.

“Tony, please, please. I’m sorry - I should’ve - I - the suit wasn’t totally ready - I should’ve come - damn it Tony, why did you - you were supposed to stay - Abby, and I - I can’t do it anymore. I wanted to move - wanted to be closer - fuck Tony how could you? How could you do this? I’m so sorry - should’ve - should’ve been there. We didn’t get enough time - Should’ve been there...”

The cries died down, and after what felt like hours, the other guy fell asleep in Peter’s arms. 

“Hey FRIDAY?” Peter tried to let out softly after the other seemed pretty solidly out. 

“Yes, Peter?” 

“Is, is he going to be okay?”

There was a pause, which wasn’t that weird. Peter had basically just asked the AI to tell her the future of someone’s emotions. 

“I’m not sure how exactly Harley” at the word, the guy - Harley - moved further into Peter’s chest. “ - will do at the moment, but I feel that once he is able to process everything, he should be okay.” 

Peter nodded, and let his hand drift to the sleeping boy’s hair. The mess on the counter would have to be cleaned up later - otherwise known as hidden to prevent another incident like this one. But for now, all he needed to focus on was making sure that Harley rest up, got hydrated, and didn’t have too many problems from the alcohol. 

He kept petting Harley’s hair, making sure his head was sideways, and just breathed. 

And kept breathing. Tony’s death was tough, and seeing someone else struggling just made him remember how much having Tony gone hurt. But he knew that Tony would have wanted Peter to have a good life, and so he had to just keep breathing, and wait for the pain to ease.

And for now, that was all he - or any of them - could do.


End file.
